


Hush.

by RubyFiamma



Series: Alter End. [3]
Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hand Jobs, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:59:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delico gets a visitor and is forced to deal with the aftermath of his mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hush.

**Author's Note:**

> For [Audrey](http://benriya-desu.tumblr.com)
> 
> Special thanks to [Kat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent) for her help on this fic, you are the best.

**Hush.**

* * *

 

Delico is just getting out of the shower when the knock comes. It stops him short in his makeshift apartment, a room only big enough to fit a cot in and a bathroom only large enough for a toilet and shower stall. The floor is cold concrete beneath his feet, the scent of mold and gunfire clings to the stagnant air. It’s not pleasant by any means, nothing like the plush quarters of the Monroe estate but for Delico, this is all he deserves and frankly, it’s all worth it.

These past few months haven’t been easy. He spends most of his time running, whether it’s after Erica or just trying to stay hidden from anti-Twilight factions and the fact that he doesn’t have his tags don’t make it any easier. He hasn’t been sleeping, he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he has, but Delico is on constant alert, looking over his shoulder and around corners and in every nook and alley way in Ergastulum, there is no rest for him here. And it isn’t just that. Every time he closes his eyes, Delico is blessed with the nightmare of his sins or the fatal images of a laugh too bright, lips too soft or a touch too warm that plague his memory with an aching poison that seizes his lungs and heart, makes his blood run cold and his stomach plummet. And so, Delico doesn’t sleep.

Only the Benriya know where he’s staying, Worick and Nicolas deliver his Celebre, so when the knock sounds again, sharp and brisk, Delico has to give pause to think if he’s due a delivery.

He isn’t.

The first thing Delico does is grab his gun from the broken dresser by the door. The raps on the decaying wood are not the right frequency and pattern of the covert sound he and the Benriya invented and Ergastulum _doesn’t have_ door to door salesmen.

He has always been grateful for the lack of windows in this place, but now it’s nothing but a hindrance; it’s put him at a major disadvantage. He can’t see the visitor, there’s a towel wrapped loosely around his waist but he doesn’t think to get dressed, he doesn’t have time, and Delico slips into seriousness as he thumbs the safety on the vetend-barrel Auto Mag pistol that feels like home in his hands, and waits for a third knock or the barging intrusion to sound.

With his bare back sticking against the peeling paint on the wall by the door, Delico waits for another knock or some other sort of action but nothing happens for a several minutes. All is quiet in his apartment and outside, not even Delico’s breath is above a whisper. After about what seems like ten minutes – maybe more, maybe less, Delico isn’t sure what the concept of time is anymore – he lowers his gun and breathes a sigh of relief as he takes a step away from the door. There will be no defending his life in a mere towel today and for whatever God he has to thank for that –

Delico freezes as the third knock cuts through his relief. It isn’t just the sudden sharp ring of noise that jolts through him, but the sound of the knock itself that leaves his blood running cold like he’s been injected with ice.

 _It’s impossible_ , he thinks as his heart begins to race. Completely impossible, the Benriya would have never sold him out and no one else _knows_ about this knock because it holds a very intimate and sentimental meaning to Delico and the only other person –

Delico is suddenly moving without thinking. Subconsciously he knows, he’s aching and desperate and so lonely and when he grabs the knob to the door, he doesn’t hesitate before tearing it open.

“Yang!” It’s not a cheery exclamation but a surprised one, despite knowing the man on the other side of the door, Delico still questions how he got there in the first place and what the other’s motives are. Though, dying at the hands of this man rather than anyone else or his cursed Twilight fate would be an end Delico is all too willing to embrace.

Yang jumps at the sound of his name, Delico assumes it’s because the other likely thought he wasn’t there, that their secret knock they’ve used since they were children was a last resort and likely would never work. But it did, and Yang’s eyes are blown wide for a fraction of a second before they soften and his mouth is the one stretching wide, grinning blindingly like he’s just lived the best moment of his life and before Delico can say anything else, Yang is tipping forward too fast for questions, arms reaching out and curling around him as he’s crushed into a hug.

“Delico – I’ve been – I’m so – You were _here_.” His voice gives way at the end, Delico can hear the chords in his throat pull tight like he’s choking down a lump and Delico buries his face into the other man’s jacket, inhales like he’s never taken a breath before, and nearly caves at the scent he’s only ever been able to recall in daydreams.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Yang whispers into his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Delico blurts, but he doesn’t let go. There’s a pressure ballooning in his chest as Yang’s arms close tighter around him, his heart feels like it’s taken on too much, and Delico doesn’t think he’ll be able to withstand this kind of pain. “I’m so sorry, Yang. I –”

“Shh,” urges Yang, easing back and locking Delico’s face between his hands. Thumbs ghost across his cheeks, fingers fit into his hair and Yang doesn’t say anything else when he leans in and presses a kiss to Delico’s lips.

The first thing Delico notices is how he nearly melts into the contact. It’s like his mind’s checked out and he’s just living off emotion rather than logical thought and his knees start to buck under dead weight. The second is that Yang tastes like sugar, foreign and unfamiliar and artificial cloying against Delico’s tongue as he sweeps the inside of the other’s mouth. Regardless of the peculiar flavour, Delico moves slow so he can savour the taste, maybe this is the way Yang has always tasted, maybe Delico’s just forgot. It’s been too long and now it’s too late, he can’t stop himself from giving it is all, can’t stop himself from giving in.

Yang’s foot kicks the door shut as they move forward into the apartment, Delico attempts to set the gun carefully on the dresser because he still hasn’t locked the safety, but not even that is enough to pull him away. Yang’s hands are touching him as if he needs assurance that Delico’s the real thing and not just some ghost from a forgotten past.

With both hands free now, Delico can touch him too, he can frame the other’s face between his palms, take a short breath before catching at Yang’s lip with his teeth, run his fingers through Yang’s hair that’s grown a little longer and thicker these past months.

He’s not sure who makes the sound, but there’s vibration resonating in his throat, a black abyss that’s become his mindset and he’s peeling Yang’s jacket off his shoulders just as the edge of the bed catches the back of his knees.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Yang breathes, aiding Delico in the flurry of movement to remove his clothing. Delico tosses a belt to his left while Yang shrugs out of his shirt. “God I –  I _missed_ you, Delico, please don’t leave like that again –”

“Shh,” soothes Delico, this time offering the hush in the form of another kiss as fingers work nimbly to remove the clasp of Yang’s slacks. He doesn’t want to think about anything right now, he just wants Yang’s hands and mouth on him, skin on skin to quell this sudden surge of itching heat striking through his veins.

Yang submits, falls under quiet as he hooks a finger into the loose knot of Delico’s towel, and the cloth slides down his legs to pool at his feet. Delico has the heavy heat of Yang’s cock in his hands, and in quick succession Yang’s fingers curl around his shaft and he wastes no time in the flick of wrist, smooth on the first upstroke.

Delico groans, heat is flooding out into his limbs as he eases back, slow, and Yang follows as they fall back onto the bed. The springs creak and dig into Delico’s back, the smell of mothballs and must disperse with the weight, but Delico doesn’t care, not when Yang’s knees fall on either side of his thighs, and the other licks at his mouth like he’s tasting for the first time. Delico’s stomach feels like the atmosphere contains no gravity and it swoops every time Yang’s knuckles brush against his skin. There’s a sound, maybe his name or maybe not a word at all, that Yang moans, as Delico sinks his teeth into the knot of muscle at the other’s shoulder. His breath is coming in short bursts of air breathed against Yang’s skin as he rocks forward into Delico’s grip and Delico’s hips tip up into his. They’re moving faster now, and Delico can feel the heat draw his stomach tight, can feel the muscles in his body begin to tense as Yang’s hand stretches over his, takes both their cocks in his hand and grinds against Delico with a rushed desperation there hasn’t been between them since they were teenagers. The edges on his reality start to blur, the panting breaths give way to sound and Delico’s groaning “ _Yang_ ,” as he spills hot over their hands. He doesn’t have time to blink, because Yang ducks in and crushes their mouths into a kiss that doesn’t quite make it to anything but a smack of lips before Yang is tensing, coming in waves that Delico can feel tremor through the other’s body.

He lays still for a moment, waits for Yang to catch his breath and for his own pulse to slow, before turning his head and pressing a kiss to the sweat-slicked skin of the other’s temple. “I’m sorry,” he says again, breathing in the oppressive moist air of the apartment. Somehow, with Yang here, it doesn’t seem as suffocating.

“For what?” asks Yang, bracing himself up on one hand, and slides the other between them through the laces of come across Delico’s stomach. He watches as Yang licks the edge of his thumb, drags his tongue against the mess on his palm and nearly goes breathless at the display.

“For…” Delico can’t catch his breath at all actually, or maybe he’s breathing and it’s just words he has trouble finding but Delico’s eyes suddenly catch discoloured skin just under the other’s shoulder, a disc of not-quite-right gold and when he reaches out to trail his fingers across the oddity, he can feel the puckered skin of a scar. When he lets his eyes fall to Yang’s chest, he sees four other wounds like it, some larger and some smaller and some healed better than others. He’s transfixed, lets his fingertips catch at all the marred skin across Yang’s chest and his back before choking back the sob of guilt wrapped up in relief of Yang being alive and okay and not hating him for what he’s done. “For everything,” Delico manages, shifting his eyes up to meet the dark gaze of the other.

“You should be,” Yang says, shifting back so that the fabric of his slacks stretch across Delico’s lap. Something in his face shifts, and he frowns like he’s just had something turn sour on his tongue. “Why did you leave?”

Delico’s heart stutters, the hands at Yang’s hips fall loose. He thought the answer to that question would be obvious. He swallows, his skin begins to flush hot under the scrutiny but Delico’s resolve has always been solid and there’s no need to falter now. “You were safe, and I wanted to protect you, so I did the only way I knew how. I left. The only thing you needed protection from was me. It was the right decision.”

“Who says?” asks Yang as a shadow falls over his face. Delico can see his eyes grow darker, clouded with the forecast of an oncoming storm, one that Delico can use to his advantage if he still thinks that leaving and staying away from Yang was the right decision.

“Huh? What do you mean ‘who says’? Isn’t it obvious –”

There’s nothing for Yang to grab hold of, but Delico can seer the familiar flash of anger in the other’s eyes as leans forward, braces himself on either side of Delico’s head so that Delico’s bathed in his looming shadow. 

“Who says you get to make that decision for me? Do you think that I’m so weak that I _need_ protecting?”

Delico’s mouth drops open because no, no, no that’s not it at all. “N-no,” he stammers, “No, it wasn’t like that, Yang! I did this to you. I nearly killed you. You aren’t safe here, I – I left to protect you from _me!_ ”

Yang holds Delico’s gaze for a while in silence, his eyes shimmering with a spark of black that Delico hasn’t seen in a long time. “And now? I’m here now, aren’t I? Are you going to hurt me?”

Delico’s heart is racing “W-what? Of course not,” Delico snaps. “But I’m not _normal_ , Yang, I don’t –” It’s Yang’s laugh that cuts Delico short, and the roll of his eyes that blooms confusion in Delico’s mind. None of this is funny, at least Delico doesn’t think so.

“You’ve _never been_ normal, Delico. If anyone understands that, it’s me. I have been by your side through everything, haven’t I? Do you think that little of me that I’d want to stay away just because of this?”

“It isn’t like we had a little argument, Yang. I _shot_ you, multiple times. My best friend, my partner, someone I – how could I –”

“I know,” Yang interjects. “I know… I’m here and I know, Delico. You don’t have to make decisions for me, I’m old enough to do that on my own.” Yang’s mouth slides into something softer, the tension at his shoulders ease, and he’s ducking in just close enough that the soft of his lips brush against Delico’s. “Besides, I’m smarter than you and you’re useless on your own. Look at you, you’re so skinny. Have you been taking care of yourself at all? Jesus, Delico. You need me around, at least so I can feed you.”

Yang’s smile is contagious, Delico can’t help but falling into routine and letting his mouth stretch into a grin at the cause of the other. “Sure,” he supplies as he tips his chin up to capture Yang’s lips with his own. He can taste the faint trace of salt on Yang’s tongue, and Delico’s not sure if he prefers the taste of himself in the other’s mouth over the saccharine sweet from when they first kissed. It doesn’t matter now, Delico’s able to reacquaint himself with the smoked-spice of Yang’s skin, the bittersweet tang on the back of the other’s tongue, like exotic dark chocolate to match the espresso-rich colour of Yang’s eyes.

“Delico, I love you.”

There’s warmth blossoming in his chest and filling his veins, and Delico can’t think about the future anymore because he only wants to live in this moment and savour it for as long as he can.

“I love you too, Yang.”


End file.
